Out of Body Experience
by bossy
Summary: A new perspective of death as seen through the eyes of the person who died. How the Brotherhood reacts, how the X-men react, and most importantly, how it happened and what happens next.
1. The Brotherhood

A/N: New Story! Weird little thing that came to me as I drove home from work (traffic sucks by the way). I hope it's interesting. Enjoy!

**Out of Body Experience**

**Prologue**

She had the sensation that she was dreaming it all. She hovered in the background somewhat, watching the small crowd of people stare forlornly at the hospital gurney. It was an eerie silence that filled the room, only broken by the uncomfortable shift in clothing and the occasional sniffle.

"We have to do this, Charles," said one. He wore a white lab coat, on which the blue fur he shed on it stuck out brightly.

"I know," stated the aforementioned. He was the only one who sat in the group of people that was obstructing her view of the hospital bed. He sighed defeated and turned away from the bed, wheeling away in his chair. "Record time of death as 9:16 p.m., Tuesday, October the tenth."

**Chapter 1: Brotherhood**

Wanda looked down in shock to see herself in the gurney; white as a ghost save for her contrasting black hair and the occasional dark blood stain on her skin. Panic threatened to overtake her senses as she tried to will herself to wake up, becoming more and more frantic as she remained trapped in the so-called dream.

She tried calling out, but her voice didn't work. She sought to grab one of the others that walked by her as they followed the professor out of the room, but her hand passed straight through the shoulder of the man with the overgrown sideburns. The only sign that proved testimony that he'd felt anything was an involuntary shudder.

"Charles, what should we tell the students?" asked the only woman among them. The professor paused for a moment before directing his chair to continue forth towards the door.

"Gather tonight's team in the library," he instructed. "I will tell them as soon as I speak to her family. The rest can wait until tomorrow."

"Do you, uh…want me to help you break the news to her father?" suggested the man with the sideburns.

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary, Logan," the professor decided. "Besides, I doubt you want to be anywhere near Eric when I tell him. I doubt he will take the news well."

"What about the boy?" asked the woman. All stopped to regard her question.

"It's hard to say how Pietro will react to the news," the professor continued, his voice fading as he left the room. "Only time will tell."

The door closed and after a few moments, the lights turned off of their own accord, leaving Wanda to stare at herself. The flurry of panic she'd been fighting earlier had passed, leaving her to wonder about what to do next. She didn't like the idea of just hovering as she was and began to concentrate. Slowly, she began to lower to the floor as if she was standing on it, though she could not feel the ground beneath her feet.

All of a sudden, the entire room began to shake, causing items to fall off shelves and the gurney that her body lay on to creak. As soon as the quaking started, it stopped altogether. The lights had come back on as soon as objects had begun falling off shelves, but after a few minutes of calm, the lights flickered out again.

The silence left in the room felt like it would overtake her until she heard footsteps coming towards the room. The door opened to the form of her father, standing imposingly in the frame. Slowly, he stepped into the room, staring at the body on the gurney.

_Father, what's going on?_

To Wanda, her voice sounded muted, but to hear herself able to speak at all was a huge improvement. However, if her father heard her, he made no notion of it. The door closed behind him as he quietly walked over to the gurney. Though he still had on the maroon-colored suit he wore in battles, he was missing the helmet and dark cape.

He reached out a gloved hand and stroked the body's arm before flinching back for a moment. The glove was off a few moments later as he took a cold and somewhat stiff hand in his own. His hand shook as he rubbed his thumb affectionately over the clammy, pale skin, sinking down into a nearby chair.

"You shouldn't be dead."

_I'm not! I'm right here!_

He sighed heavily; a small, unhappy smile gracing his face. "You were the strong one."

_Please, Father, don't think I'm dead. I'm not! I'm right here with you._

"So much has gone wrong between us," he whispered, closing his eyes and shaking his head slowly from side to side. "I knew I was the cause of most of it, but I planned on having time to make it up to you."

_I can't be dead! I don't want to be dead! Please, Father, why can't you see me?_

"The last thing I said to you was, 'Don't take too long.' Why couldn't I have said anything else?"

Wanda covered her ears, trying to block out the words that were making her cry. It was obvious by now that her father could neither see nor hear her, but his words were plain as day to her.

"The last time I told you I loved you was over eight years ago. No wonder you hated me."

_I don't hate you._

"Eric," the professor interrupted, cracking the door slightly. "That's enough for now."

"Where has my son gone?" he asked, reluctantly letting go of the hand and heading to the door.

"He ran around the city a few times before heading back to the Brotherhood house," the professor revealed. "You should go there, too."

"I am sure that I am the last person my son wants to see right now," her father guessed. "But I will take the other boys home."

Wanda was once again left in silence as the door closed, with the lights leaving her as well a few moments later. Staring at herself was surreal, so with a lot of concentration, Wanda managed to move close enough to touch her own body. Instead of her hand passing right through her arm as she'd expected, her hand came to rest on the forearm.

The sensation was sickening; like touching ones own skin after it had been numbed. She wretched her hand back, staring at the forearm where her hand had just been. The skin there was now raised with a thin layer of frost in the print of fingers.

_I really am dead._

She heard something from behind her and turned to see a small puff of smoke dissipate, as well as the form of Nightcrawler crouching in the corner. Triggered by his presence, the lights flickered on once again, making him squint his eyes at the change. He stared at the body from a distance for a while before porting next to the gurney.

He had a serious look on his face as he examined the body, reaching out his three-fingered hand and placing it in front of the face. After a moment, his and went down onto the chest and rested. It occurred to Wanda that he was checking to make sure she was dead.

_I wish everyone else was as distrustful as you at the news of my death._

"I didn't want to believe him," he whispered. Slowly, his hand returned to his side. "I wanted him to be lying. Just this once."

_I wish he was lying, too._

"I still don't want to believe it," he continued, starting to slink back into the corner again. "I don't want to accept that you're dead."

_Why not?_

Nightcrawler closed his eyes and crouched in the corner again. "You said you'd be alright, and now you're dead. I shouldn't have left you there alone. It's not right."

_If I learned anything in my life, it's that life's not fair._

"It's not right," he repeated, and then was gone in another puff of smoke. The lights left her again a few minutes later, and she was alone with her body for the rest of the night. The next person to enter the room was her father the following morning, accompanied by the professor. Though he'd been gone the whole night, it looked like he hadn't slept.

"It's going to be private, Charles," he was saying as they entered the room. "Just me, and my son if he cares to be there. I'm having the casket delivered here on Thursday afternoon, and the burial will be Friday."

"Eric, I believe it would be better if this was handled by a mortician," the professor argued gently. "They would know how—"

"Please respect my beliefs on this matter, Charles," her father pleaded sternly. "I don't want anyone cutting her open or trying to embalm her."

"I understand," the professor agreed reluctantly. "Please let me know if there is anything else I can do."

"If you would be so kind, Charles," he began as he gently rubbed the body's hand again, "to keep an eye on my son. Just in case…"

"Of course," the professor promised. "He has yet to leave the Brotherhood property since yesterday."

"Thank you…old friend."

They turned to leave and Wanda was quick to follow, concentrating hard to leave the room that she'd been trapped in all night. She followed them to a lift as the two men remained in a mutual silence. Though getting into her father's car was a trick, she managed to do it. Her father was silent for most of the trip, as she expected, so she jumped when he began speaking.

"I hope you won't hate it, but it's a pink coffin."

"_What?"_

"Not an obnoxious pink, but a soft pink like your mother's. It was hard enough being forced to look at them and think which one would be best to rest you in, so I picked out the same one as your mother's."

"_Do you like it?"_

"Caskets are the ugliest man-made creation on the planet. Being forced to choose one is the most cruel form of torture in this world."

It wasn't her imagination; he was talking to her. Though he never looked at her in the back seat, it was as if he knew she was there with him. After a few moments, she recalled back to the time when her mother had just passed away and she'd found him talking to himself in their room. He'd explained to her that sometimes imagining those who've passed away and even talking to them helped to ease the pain of the loss.

"I also wanted a private service for you. I doubted you would have liked a lot of people weeping over you and all those things you endured at your mother's funeral."

"_No, I guess not."_

"I don't know if your brother will be there. He…did not take your death well."

"_I wonder if he's mad at me."_

"It would not surprise me if he resented me because of this."

"_What about you?"_

"I, am mad at myself. Things…weren't supposed to happen this way. A parent is not supposed to bury their own child."

They had made it to the Brotherhood house not long after. She followed him into the house and up the stairs. Her father stood at her brother's door for a moment, contemplating whether to knock or not.

"What do you want?" Pietro asked before he could decide, muffled by the door.

"Friday morning at nine. Be ready at eight-thirty if you're going."

He left it at that and walked back down the stairs. Wanda was going to resume following him but stopped when she passed by the living room. It had been a disaster when she was alive, and nothing had changed since she died other than the fact that the boys were sitting in there and staring at the television that was not on.

"What do you suppose that was about?" asked Toad, who was on the floor hacking loogies at the ceiling.

"Who cares," Lance hissed, getting up from the couch. "That bastard's been here longer in the last two days than he has before she died. If he's trying to make up for it, he's a little late."

Toad and Fred watched him seethe up the stairs and heard his door slam a few moments later. Toad resumed hacking at the ceiling and Fred, who was also on the floor, picked at a stain on the ragged carpet. Silence resumed for a while, and Wanda just hovered in the doorway for a while, watching in raptured disgust as the loogies splattered on the ceiling and slowly started to drip back down onto the carpet.

"Out of all of us there, why did she have to be the one, yo?" Toad asked all of a sudden.

Fred sighed in response.

"I mean, Lance is right. The boss-man shoulda bit it, not her."

Fred tried a response. "You know what they say: Everything happens for a reason."

"Can you think of a good reason for this?"

Fred was silent and Toad resumed spitting at the ceiling.

"_Maybe this would be a good reason to re-think about why you're here."_

"Seriously, what _am_ I doing here?"

"Spitting on the ceiling?"

"That's not what I meant, yo."

"_Did you guys expect life here to be an everlasting party?"_

"When first came here, I thought I'd be here for a while, beat up on the X-men some, then move on. It's weird to think I've been here for almost five years."

"And I've been here longer than you, yo."

"The party is definitely over. I think it's time to move on."

"I hear ya. Now that Wanda ain't here no more, it seems kinda pointless to stay."

"_If you left right now, no one would stop you."_

"But I don't feel like I'm ready to go yet."

"Me neither yo. Kinda like if I go, I'll have to admit she's gone."

"_Don't think depressing thoughts about me. It makes me feel depressed."_

A few silent minutes passed before a bemused smile crossed Fred's face.

"Remember the time we hooked the hose up to the sink upstairs and tried to soak Pyro's bed?"

"Yeah, it woulda worked to, if he weren't in it when we tried to do it."

"Yeah. And then those fireballs knocked you down the stairs and straight into Wanda's room."

"The best accident I've ever had. I remember she had just gotten out of the shower before we hooked up the hose."

"And she hexed your scrawny ass through the wall."

"In nothing but her underwear."

"_Don't think thoughts like that about me either. Perverts."_

Wanda left them with their lecherous grins and headed upstairs. She intended to hover in her brother's presence for a while, but when confronted with his closed door, she could not pass. She tried Lance's door and had the same problem. Finally, with nowhere else to go, she headed up to the third floor to John's room. It was the only door that was open.

He wasn't in there, which was probably half the reason the door was open. She recalled that he had been gone for several days before she…died, making the other housemates wonder if he'd up and ditched them or had just finally gotten arrested for arson.

For whatever the reason, she had never been in his room before. She slowly circled the room, staring at the different posters on the walls and shaking her head at the mess the boy lived in. It was as if his entire wardrobe was on the floor, clean and dirty, and when he fell out of bed in the mornings, whatever articles of clothing he landed on was his outfit for the day.

The room had little in the way of furniture; only a bed, dresser (which had obviously never been used), and desk decorated the room. There was a pile of crumpled papers on top of and around the desk, as well as several bound notebooks. She glanced down at the only one that was open and began to read.

_**The Brothers used their skills to control the entire eastern part of the small country. Not a soul within a hundred miles of them dared contradict the words a Brother. Especially since the Brothers were carrying a secret weapon in their ranks: the Witch.**_

_**No one withstood a stare from the Witch. One glance from her weathered, blue-gray eyes was the end of a man, for he became entranced on the spot and easy prey for the Witch to pick off at her will. And she always picked them off, sooner or later.**_

Wanda shook her head in slight amusement of the short story that had just begun. She had always wondered what he did all night long, since he was a self-proclaimed semi-insomniac. And he always seemed to have money without having a job. This explained some things.

"Shouldn't be readin' other people's stuff without permission."

Wanda, caught off guard, looked up to see John standing in the doorway, holding his jacket in one hand and a ratty book-bag in the other. He tossed the jacket in the direction of the closet and the bag at the desk. He immediately walked up and closed the open journal, pulling open a drawer and shoving all of the notebooks into one.

"_Sorry."_

Wanda left John's room and went to see if Pietro had opened his door yet. When she passed by his room the door was open, but her brother was not in there. She decided to check the kitchen and living room next.

Fred and Toad were in the living room where she'd left them, now in competition to see who could out snore the other. She found her brother in the kitchen, standing in front of the fridge and holding a carton of milk. He simply stood there, with the milk carton at shoulder level and poised to take a drink, staring at the wall.

_What are you doing?_

Pietro started, then put the milk back in the fridge without drinking any. He moved to the table and picked up the paper, burying himself in it. Wanda moved to sit across from him at the table.

_What are you reading?_

Pietro abruptly closed the paper and slammed it down on the table. He got up and was back up in his room before Wanda could follow, slamming the door behind him. She sighed, wondering why she could 'talk' to her father, someone who she'd seen less than twice a month over the last two years, and her brother was out of reach.

Frustrated, she walked out the front door, which had been left open, presumably by John. He tended to act like he was born in a barn, in more ways than one. She came to rest on the steps of the porch and watched the rest of the day pass by agonizingly slowly.

Close to dusk, Lance pulled back in the driveway. She hadn't even realized that he'd left. He pulled his Jeep into the garage and she decided to go linger in his presence for a while. When she first entered the garage, she wondered if he'd slipped her again, but a curse from under the vehicle proved otherwise. On the other side of the garage his legs protruded from under the Jeep.

"God damn catalytic converter," he grumbled. "If it's not one thing on this piece of shit, it's another."

"_I thought you said that if one more thing went wrong, you were going to shoot it and put it out of its misery."_

"I don't have a gun, or I would shoot this damn thing."

"_I'm sure Pyro would have no problems with setting it on fire for you."_

"And I'm sorely tempted to do just that."

The way the conversation flowed, it seemed as if he was really talking to her. But the more she thought about it, most of the 'conversations' she'd had during the day could have been the boys just talking to each other or themselves.

"Talking to yourself again, Alvers?" chided a voice from outside. "You do know that's the first sign of insanity."

"And the prissy boy has landed," Lance commented as he pushed himself out from under the Jeep. "What do you want, Maximoff?"

"I want the Jeep," Pietro announced, standing in the garage doorway.

"You run a hundred times faster than the Jeep can drive," Lance argued. "Why do you want it?"

"That's an insult. I can run a thousand times faster than this hunk of junk," Pietro corrected him "It's just hard to pick up chicks going that fast."

"You're going out to pick up a girl?" Lance repeated, blown away by that announcement.

"_Girls_. Plural," Pietro grinned, holding out his hand. "Gimmie the keys."

"Your sister just died and you're going out to get laid?" Lance yelled. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Tell me just what to do about it, Alvers," Pietro shot back, snatching up the keys in less than a second. "She's dead and gone and there's nothing I can do about it except move on and forget about it."

"You're a piece of work, Maximoff," Lance muttered, stalking out of the garage. "A real fucking piece of work, just like your bastard father."

Wanda, who'd been hovering on the hood of the Jeep, was in shock at her brother's declaration. Pietro climbed into the driver's seat and started the Jeep, revving the engine irritably. After a minute, he shut the engine off and climbed out of the vehicle.

"I can't take this anymore."

Wanda sniffed at the thought of being so easily discarded by someone she'd loved so much.

"You're dead and lying on some examination bed at Xavier's waiting to be buried, but you just won't leave me alone."

Looking up in confusion, Wanda watched Pietro pace back and forth in the short spance of the garage.

"And I must be the one going insane because I'm here talking to you."

Intrigued at the new admission, Wanda tried one last time to communicate with her brother.

"_Why do you want to just forget about me?"_

"You're dead," Pietro hissed. "I've just got to get used to that fact. You're not going to be here anymore and the sooner I accept that, the sooner I can go on with my life."

"_I don't want to be forgotten. If you're forgotten by those who loved you, then it's like you never lived at all."_

"I'm going to go to the burial on Friday and that will be the end of it. I won't have to think about you anymore."

"_How can you forget about me? I'm your sister! Your twin sister!"_

"You lied to me!" Pietro ranted loudly. Whatever cool he had been maintaining had dried up and he let his emotions get the better of him. "You promised that we'd never outlive each other!"

Wanda didn't want to say anything. She thought he'd forgotten about that.

"When we were little, we promised that we'd die together so we wouldn't ever have to be alone. And then you just went and blew yourself up! What were you thinking when you walked into that fight?!"

"_That if I didn't fight him, it would have been the end for everyone. Including you."_

"We could have just walked away," Pietro continued, still pacing but no longer shaking from emotional stress. "We could have just left it to Father to figure out and disappeared."

"_It wouldn't have ended there."_

"But no, you had to be Daddy's Little Girl and clean up the mess for him."

"_Stop it, Pietro."_

"And the best part is, you did it for a father that didn't even give a damn about you."

"_Stop it, Pietro!"_

"Yeah, ya can stop now, Pietro."

Both Wanda and Pietro's gaze turned to the open garage door. John stood there, his hair sticking out in all directions and his clothes disheveled, both indicating that he'd just gotten out of bed.

"Piss off, Fire-Boy. I'm leaving."

"Not in th' beastie, ya not."

"Says who?"

"Th' Rock Tumbler himself. Dragged me outta bed and told me ta light th' thing on fire."

"Fine. Light it," Pietro shrugged, walking past him and back to the house. "But pull it out of the garage first. We don't need the house to go up in flames too."

"Whatever ya say, Peppy," John chuckled, walking into the garage and sitting in the driver's seat. He sat there for a moment, then sighed in irritation. "Ya gonna get off or not?"

Wanda stared at him blankly. Did he just ask her a question?

"I s'pose I can back this monster out with ya on the hood, but that'd be dangerous."

"_You…want me to…get off the Jeep?"_

"Yeah. Unless ya like sittin' on the hood of a car when it's moving."

"_Sorry."_

Wanda moved from the hood to the ground again and headed for the house herself.

"Dontcha want ta watch th' fireworks?" John called after her. Wanda stopped, turning back to look at him for a moment. She half-smiled appeared on her face as she shook her head, and she continued into the house. John jumped out of the Jeep and followed her. "What's eatin' ya?"

"_It's been a bad couple of days."_

"Did prissy-boy piss ya off again?"

"_I just don't want to be forgotten about."_

"Nah, who could forget about ya?" John dismissed. They had made it into the house by that time; Wanda having no problems entering since John just left the door open behind him again. "It's not easy ta just up 'n forget th' Scarlet Witch."

"Here, here, yo," Toad toasted as they passed the living room. It seemed that he and Fred were having a bottle of Vodka each to commemorate the loss of their fallen teammate. John was tempted to stay, but Wanda shook her head at the sight and continued up the stairs.

For whatever the reason, her door was open. She decided to go in, having flashbacks of leaving it the day before. Her bed was unmade, her closet door open somewhat, and her hair brush on the floor next to her vanity where it had fell when she was in a rush to meet the boys downstairs. At the time, she had been literally running through her room as she dressed for the forthcoming battle. Everyone in the house had been in a hurry to get the job Magneto had bestowed upon them over as soon as possible.

"Don't look so glum, sheila," John told her, standing in her doorway. "It can't be that bad."

"_You have no idea."_

"Sure, it's a big mess ta be stuck here with no hope of escape," John continued, now wandering her room and peering curiously into her closet. "But that's no reason ta act all down in th' dumps."

"_What _are _you looking at?"_

"So this is where ya keep all ya clothes," he commented. "Interesting. I always thought that this was just a mini spare room ta lock up wretched people who sneak into ya room without permission."

Wanda gave him an incredulous look, at which John laughed. "I'm jokin' y'know."

"_Why are you following me around?"_

"I like ya company," he shrugged, jumping onto the unmade bed. "When ya aren't yellin' at me."

"What the hell are you doing in here?"

Pietro stood at the door, looking ready to kill.

"What th' 'ell does it matter ta ya?" John shot back. "I can be in 'ere if I want ta."

In less than a second, Pietro had removed John from Wanda's room and slammed him against the wall in the hall.

"Get it through your small, insane little brain," Pietro hissed. "That room is off limits from now on."

"If she wants me out, she'll tell me 'erself," John decided, shoving Pietro back. Pietro stumbled slightly, looking at him as if he'd just grown a third head.

"Are you really that crazy?" Pietro asked before he paused, as if a thought had just occurred. "Or maybe you don't know yet."

"Know what?"

"My sister died yesterday."

John stared at him, silent for a moment. He leaned slightly to one side to glance at Wanda, then stood upright again to face Pietro. A quiet chuckle erupted from John.

"What a load a rot."

Pietro slammed his fist into John's jaw as hard as he could, causing the pyromaniac to pitch sideways into the other wall.

"You," he spat. "You and everyone in this house don't understand what this means. She's dead. _Dead_. She's not coming back. And _mad_ as you may be, you're going to have to get used to it, just like I do."

John, gingerly rubbing his jaw, looked between him and Wanda again. "She's not gone. She's standing right there."

"You really _do_ belong in an asylum," Pietro murmured, entering his room and slamming the door. John leaned in the door frame of Wanda's room.

"Ya believe that sack a crap he just laid out?" John grinned lamely.

"_He wasn't lying. You are insane."_

"Ya brother refuses ta acknowledge yer existence and ya question my sanity?"

"_You must be. You see me, you talk to me, and weirdest of all, you consciously hold a conversation with me."_

"An' we all know that's like pullin' teeth."

Wanda sighed deeply, then looked him straight in the eye.

"_My funeral is Friday. If you want proof, my body is being held at Xavier's."_

John cocked his head to the side slightly, raising an eyebrow in confusion. He stepped into her room again and began walking towards her.

"I get it now. Yer brother and ya are playin' a trick on me. Ya want me ta think that I'm going cra—"

Before he could finish the word, John's hand passed right through Wanda's shoulder. He stopped where he was and stood with his hand protruding through her.

"Ya can stop now."

"_Stop what?"_

"Stop trying ta make me think I'm crazy."

Wanda looked down and walked the rest of the way through John and out of her door.

"Ya can't be dead," John called out after her. "Yer the Scarlet Witch!"

Wanda kept on down the stairs and out the door, which was still hanging open. She'd decided that she'd had enough of the Brotherhood House and began walking around the city of Bayville aimlessly. Past the high school that she'd never attended, past the newly remodeled mall that she'd demolished, to the center of town that was blocked off by yellow police tape and orange, blinking road hazard signs.

What used to be the busiest intersection in the mid-sized New York town was now a small crater. Some people were staring into the disaster while whispering worriedly to each other, while others just shook their heads and walked past muttering about needing some anti-mutant protection laws. There were also a few reporters gathered around the ruins as they reported of the previous night's events.

"And we're told by local police that the calamity began almost twenty-four hours ago in this very spot," a reporter told the camera. "It is unknown why the two mutant factions were fighting here, but it is known that the blast from the explosion that ended the fight sent out a shock wave that cracked windows as far a mile away. Very surprisingly, though, it seems that there was only one fatality in the entire fight: the same mutant that caused this damage."

The reporter swept their hand back behind them, letting the cameraman pan out over the area.

_You're wrong. There were two fatalities. I know that I at least took him with me._

"This disaster has brought numerous arguments to head in Washington," the reporter continued. "Several anti-mutant groups have been lobbying outside the White House since last night for some form of retribution for the actions committed in this small, New York town."

Tired of listening to bad news, Wanda kept walking through town, still thinking of the battle. She and her brother had been arguing the entire way to the battle about why they were there. Pietro had recently grown irritated with their father and had been chiding her for supporting him. They had argued up until the moment that Wanda had walked into her last fight.

A/N: So, what did ya think? Feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Next chapter most likely next week. So stay tuned!


	2. The XMen

A/N: Well, on to chapter 2. As a side note, everything written in italics as a large block (i.e. the first part of this chapter) is a memory. Also, plot twist at the end. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 2: X-Men**

"_We shouldn't even be here," Pietro grumbled, pacing back and forth behind the others, who had already engaged themselves in battle. "We should have just told the old man to go screw himself."_

"_Pietro, he's our father," Wanda insisted. "And family is for life, even if you don't like it."_

"_But we always get stuck doing this crap for him," Pietro argued. "When's the last time he actually came by to see us, just to see us?"_

"_So, what, you want to just ditch this battle and say 'screw the world'?" Wanda asked. "Father is right. If we don't stop him, most likely no one will. And then where would we be?"_

"_This wouldn't even be a situation if it weren't for _Dear Old Dad_," Pietro complained. "Nathaniel Essex worked for our father, until recently."_

"_And what do you want me to do about that, Pietro?" Wanda hissed. "Alter time and space so that this Nathan Essek or whatever doesn't come to work for our father? He would have found someone else to use to accomplish the same means."_

"_No, I want us to do nothing, that's what," Pietro clarified, grabbing her arms. "Let's just walk away and start a new life without Magneto."_

"_I can't do that, Pietro," Wanda shook her head. "Because it wouldn't end here."_

"_Wanda," Magneto called out, beckoning her to him._

"_I'll be right back," Wanda assured him, shaking from his hold and walking over to her father._

"_Fine, do what you want," Pietro told her back. "But don't think I'm going to just stand here and watch this disaster happen."_

_With a gust of wind, Wanda knew her brother had left. A glance to her father showed that he was not at all amused with his son's untimely temper tantrum, but to busy to address it at the moment._

"_Wanda, I need to stop Sinister's machines from retrieving Apocalypse from the rift in time he's created," her father said. "I need you to deal with Sinister and his minions, since Xavier's underlings can't seem to manage the job on their own. I cannot reach his machine to dismantle it with his force field still in place."_

_Wanda looked over to the large, complicated looking machine that would occasionally throw out a crack of electricity as it whirred on. How this deranged Sinister had managed to build it under her father's nose, Wanda didn't really know. What she did know was that her father was quite nervous and agitated because of that machine; a state that she hadn't seen him in since their last brush with Apocalypse a few years prior._

"_Can you do it, Wanda?" her father asked, looking down at her with a hand on each of her shoulders._

"_Yeah, I can," Wanda promised, looking over to where the X-men were fighting, and admittedly, losing to Sinister and his so-called Horsemen. The team Xavier had sent into battle was trying, in vain, to 'save' one of their own. Their attempts to save Angel and solve the situation using as little force as possible were getting them walked all over._

"_Don't take too long," Magneto commanded, leaving with a swish of his cape headed towards the pulsing apparatus that was the cause of all the trouble. Wanda looked forward, focusing on the problem before her. The mutant called Sinister was standing in the middle of the foray of his minions and the X-men, arms crossed and grinning at her somewhat expectantly. _

"_So you are Magneto's trump card," he surmised. "I have been waiting to meet you. I've heard so many stories about the powers that you supposedly possess. Tell me, is it true you can alter the course of an attack as it is fired at you?"_

_Without waiting for an answer, Sinister threw a large energy bolt her way. Wanda waved her hand at it and sent it smashing into the ground, causing small pieces of asphalt to rain down in its wake. Sinister's grin grew even wider._

"_You do not disappoint, my dear." He waved his own hand before him. "Care to take a stab at it?"_

_Wanda narrowed her eyes at him and curled in the middle and ring fingers on each hand. A bluish tinge overtook her hands and they began to quake slightly before she threw her own version of an energy blast at him. A ripple in the air could vaguely be seen as her attack met with a sort of force field before the energy fizzled away around him and ran into the building behind him._

"_Now, I must admit, that was a bit disappointing." He sighed while crossing his arms again. "I was expecting something a little more showy than—"_

_Large, boulder-like pieces of the closest building began raining down upon him, forcing him to throw a force field above him._

"_I stand corrected," he called out over the sounds of the pieces of the building hitting the street. "You _are _a force to be reckoned with."_

_Wanda raised an eyebrow at him. "Now I have a question for you: Can you multi-task?"_

_Wanda didn't wait until her question registered before throwing another energy blast at him. He did manage to block the blast as well as the falling pieces, but on the plus side of things, he looked to be having a rough time of it. Another plus was that the force field around his 'doomsday' machine had begun to weaken._

"_Trust me, girl, when I tell you that a young whelp such as yourself will not defeat me so easily," he promised. The pieces from the roof of the building had finally ceased in falling and had left an opening for him to attack her. She dodged behind a large piece, which blew up almost immediately thereafter. "I may not have lived as long as Apocalypse, but I've seen the turn of the century more than once."_

_Wanda was ignoring him as she attempted to find new places to shield her from his attacks. She managed to get a few seconds of a breather when she ducked behind a bus, listening as the energy attacks hit the other side of it in Sinister's attempts to eradicate her. She took a moment to assess her surroundings and was dismayed to see that all of her own teammates were down and not getting up, as well as a few of the X-men looking pretty ragged. _

_She sighed in impatience at their inefficiency and looked up, easily spotting the Angel flying above everyone. She aimed and fired a hex bolt at the brain-washed mutant and took him down instantly. Cyclops turned around and quirked his head at her._

"_I could use a little help here," she explained in an annoyed tone._

"_Were working on it," he insisted, going back to blasting his other three opponents._

"_At this rate, I'll be dead before you get around to it," she taunted, but before Cyclops could rebuttal, the bus gave way to Sinister's attacks and Wanda was forced back into battle. _

"_I doubt that you can win if you insist on hiding from me," Sinister told her. "Why don't you show me why I should be afraid of you."_

_Wanda resumed throwing hex bolts at him, each being blocked by his own force field. She quickly grew agitated that he was blocking her attacks so easily, knowing that the only way to defeat him was going to be to distract him somehow and get a lucky shot in._

"_You've become boring," Sinister announced. "You've done all this before. Where's this immense power that I've heard about? That can level buildings and cripple government artillery."_

"_Are you stupid?" Wanda suggested. "If I do that here, we'll both be killed."_

"_At this rate, my dear," Sinister began, throwing his own attacks again, "you're going to die anyway."_

"_So what you're saying is that I should at least take you with me," she surmised. "Is that right?"_

_A red blast from nowhere hit Sinister squarely in the chest, knocking him back a few feet before another hit him. Wanda looked over to see Cyclops. Behind him were Iceman, Nightcrawler and Rogue, the last of his team that were still mobile, heading towards her. _

"_Took you long enough," she goaded. Her gaze returned to Sinister, who was clutching his chest in pain and shock as acidic blisters formed there. "Hey. Hit him again."_

"_But—"_

"_Humor me," she insisted. Cyclops took aim and grazed Sinister's arm. As she had expected, the acidic blisters formed there as well. "How convenient. Looks to me like you can handle this from here on. I need to go see if I can help my father."_

"_I will go with you," Nightcrawler suggested, and before she could argue, he'd grabbed her wrist. After a momentary feeling of dizziness, she found herself in front of Sinister's machine, just outside the force field. _

"_I don't see my father," Wanda murmured, looking around._

"_Uh, look down."_

_Wanda looked at Nightcrawler, then moved her gaze to the ground just inside the force field. Her father was sprawled on the ground, unconscious. Wanda immediately moved to go to him, but was pulled back by Nightcrawler. _

"_You don't know what that thing will do to you," Nightcrawler explained, meaning the force field. Wanda looked at her unmoving father, then back to him._

"_Can you get me in there?"_

_Nightcrawler looked to be debating it. "I guess."_

"_Then do it," Wanda commanded. Nightcrawler sighed nervously, then complied. Wanda immediately went to her father's side, crossing the fingers on one hand as she checked for a pulse with the other. It appeared that her father had at least nine lives, and hadn't used all of them up yet. _

"_We should get out of here," Nightcrawler suggested insistently. "This machine can only bring about bad things."_

"_Take my father out of here," Wanda instructed. "I'll take care of the machine."_

"_But," Nightcrawler stammered, "look what it did to Magneto."_

"_I'll be fine," she insisted. "Now go."_

_Nightcrawler gave her one last nervous look before disappearing in a small, black cloud of smoke. Wanda refocused at the task at hand: destroying the 'doomsday' machine. She briefly wondered what her father had done that had gotten him knocked out before shrugging dismissively, knowing that she probably wasn't going to end up doing the same thing. She raised her hands towards the machine, the bluish glow emanating from them again, right before she landed roughly to the side after having the wind knocked out of her._

"_Now who said you could just walk away in the middle of our fight?"_

_Wanda looked up in astonishment to see Sinister standing just a few feet away. A glance back at Cyclops' team showed them all down for the count._

"_Useless," she muttered as she managed herself upright again. She was down again almost immediately when another energy bolt struck her._

"_Pity, but I will have to continue this little bout later," Sinister announced. "The time has come for me to do what I was instructed to do."_

_Sinister then walked over to the machine and began pushing random buttons, causing the machine to work even harder than before. Wanda realized that this was the moment, and also realized what she had to do. As quickly as she could, she crawled over to where Sinister stood since she hurt too much to stand upright. _

_Somewhat afraid of what might happen, she gradually pushed as much power into her hands as she could before grabbing onto one of Sinister's legs and slapping the other hand onto his machine. Sinister looked down in annoyance before realizing what was about to happen. Wanda's last conscious thought was to hope that Sinister's force field would keep the blast somewhat contained, and with any luck, would keep all the others from harm._

--

At the top of the hill that looked over the city of Bayville, Scott Summers sat on the hood of his car, staring out into nothingness. Wanda had come upon him in her wandering out of the city. She sat next to him for a while watching the last of the sunset, enjoying the silent company if nothing else.

A cell phone interrupted the early evening calm. With an irritated sigh, Scott pulled the cell phone out of his pocket and flipped it open, staring at the number that was barging in on his solitude. Finally he answered with a curt hello, listening for a few minutes with what Wanda decided was agitated fidgeting.

"I'll come home when I'm ready," he declared testily, slapping the phone shut only to open it again and turn it off. "I don't want to be there right now."

"_You shouldn't blame yourself."_

He jumped off the car and began pacing back and forth in front of it.

"I should have done something."

"_I believe you were knocked out when I died."_

"I should have been able to handle Sinister. I should have blasted him into kingdom come when I had the chance."

"_Talking about what you should have done won't change what _did _happen."_

"I should have done _something._"

Wanda sighed. Just why was she trying to reassure someone who couldn't even see her? Let alone hear her.

"They want me to come home and put on a brave face for the other students. Yeah, right. I couldn't even look at them right now without thinking about how it could have been one of them. Or might be next time."

"_There won't be a next time. I know I took that bastard and his machine with me."_

"I'm not ready to play fearless leader right now. I have some things I have to think through right now and I don't want someone hovering on the edge of my mind while I do it."

"_You actually think that a few miles is going to be enough for you to keep the world's most powerful psychic out of your head?"_

"I just don't understand why I have to go back there and parade around, telling everyone it's going to be okay when I don't even believe it myself. It's like I can't have any feelings about what happened. I'm just supposed to move on and act like it didn't matter."

"_You and my brother should switch places."_

"It does matter. We've had it pretty bad sometimes, but no one's ever died. Is it going to just keep getting worse like this? Are we going to end up throwing our lives away to save people who truly believe that mutants are better off dead anyway?"

"_I didn't throw my life away. Granted, my death may have saved those people who are happy that there is one less mutant in the world, but, I did save the people I care about, too."_

"It changes everything. The people, the rules, everything. It can't be the same anymore."

"_Maybe you should go tell that to someone living."_

"And they're just going to have to deal with it," Scott decided, climbing into the driver's seat. Still not ready to go back to the Brotherhood House, Wanda decided to tag along with the X-Man back to the institute.

Scott parked his red and white convertible in the garage next to an SUV, but paused for a few minutes before mustering up the energy to actually enter the mansion. Wanda followed him, seeing as he was needed to open doors, half sight-seeing as they traveled the halls.

"Scott?"

He stopped in the middle of the hall and turned around. Wanda moved, out of habit, as the tall red-head exited the room Wanda was closest to and stood right where she had been standing. Wanda glanced into the room to see several of the mansion's students gathered there. Some of them looked upset, others looked wary as they listened to the conversation in the hall.

"Scott," the red-head repeated, trying to hide the displeasure in her voice, "where have you been?"

"Out," was his answer. He considered the conversation over and resumed his trek down the hall. The red-head spared one glance at the other students in the sitting room before the door closed itself and she followed.

"You've been gone all day and that's all you have to say?" she accused, letting the discontent into her voice. "Great. The rest of us have been here calming the other students like we were supposed to be, and you've been out having a pity party on the edge of town."

"One, since you knew where I was, why did you bother to ask?" Scott shot back, still walking. "Two, I'm not about to sit here and to spout fake words of comfort to others because that's exactly what it would be: fake."

"But—"

"Look," he said, finally stopping and turning to face her. "You and I are both disturbed right now and continuing this conversation is probably just going to make things worse. So let's just drop it."

"But the students—"

"If they're upset, then let them be upset," Scott yelled. The red-head froze and closed her eyes. "If they want to cry about it, then let them. There is no law that says they can't be sad about the fact that she died just because they didn't know her that well. Telling them it will be okay and that they shouldn't upset by it is just a bunch of lies anyway."

Silence filled the hall for a few moments, in which the sound of a sniffle alerted them that their whole conversation had been eavesdropped. Scott sighed deeply before continuing.

"What happened yesterday _was_ important and should not be so easily dismissed," he finished, much calmer from his earlier rant. He continued down the hall, undisturbed.

"Is everything ok, Jean?" asked one of the students once Scott had disappeared from view.

"No, everything is not ok," she answered with a small sniffle. She turned back to face them, smiling gently but with watering eyes. "But I guess Scott's right. We shouldn't be expecting it to be ok right now."

She silently ushered the younger students back into the sitting room and closed the door again, leaving Wanda alone in the hall. She resumed traveling down the hall that Scott had disappeared down, not really knowing where she was going. Several closed doors later she found ShadowCat in the kitchen, sobbing her woes to a bowl of ice cream and a former Acolyte.

"And like, I know it's not my fault that she died," she sobbed, absently stabbing her spoon at the melting ice cream, "but I can't help it. I feel bad."

"It is not wrong for you to feel sorrow for the loss of a friend," Colossus told her, with deep concentration lines embedded in his forehead. Wanda imagined they stemmed from trying to comfort the mutant valley girl without managing to send her into a crying fit.

"But like, she wasn't exactly a friend," ShadowCat argued. "I mean, I liked her okay, and whenever I was at the Brotherhood House, we got along, but that's like, it. We didn't hang out, or anything like that."

"_You got more patience than me, big man. She's right, whenever she came over, we pretty much got along. Probably because when she started to annoy me, I'd leave."_

"Kitty," Colossus began, "as I said before, it is not wrong to feel sorrow for the loss of a friend. But it is also important to keep in mind the help that she managed to bring us."

"But like, there had to have been another way," Kitty argued, her spoon on the table and her forgotten ice-cream, now soup in the bowl. "It's just not right for things to end up like this."

Colossus sighed deeply and handed her another tissue.

"I kind of wonder sometimes what it would have been like if we had found her before Mystique," Kitty mused as she blew her nose. "It always felt like she was on the wrong side when we battled."

"_Keep dreaming Kitty-cat. I'd have never been an X-Man."_

Wanda left the kitchen, deciding she was tired of listening to the super sappy cry-a-thon. Walking towards the main foyer, she spotted the Iceman sitting in one of the large window sills, staring outside. One of his arms was in a sling and he had a gauze bandage over his right eye.

On the opposite side of the room, an elevator that was disguised as part of the wall opened to reveal the Angel, who had his share of scrapes and bruises, but also had a new added feature that would be a constant reminder of what he'd just been through: Sinister had put a brand on his chest of one of the four horsemen, Pestilence.

Iceman and Angel locked gazes briefly and flinched at each other. Iceman resumed staring out the window and Angel, somewhat lost on what to do, took a seat at a window on the opposite side of the huge main doors. For a while, silence filled the foyer and Wanda decided she'd walk up the huge staircase to see if anyone else was around. She was half way up when Iceman spoke.

"You look better."

Angel was apparently just as surprised as Wanda to hear him speak because he took a few extra moments to answer.

"You too."

"It's just a hairline fracture," Iceman shrugged, looking down at his arm. "I'm on the injured list for at least six weeks."

Angel made no comment.

"But at least I'm still alive," Iceman murmured. Angel let out a shaky sigh.

"I still don't understand it," Angel spoke, seemingly to himself. "The daughter of my enemy. I didn't even know her name until she was dead. Why would someone like that put their life on the line for me?"

Wanda had sat down on the stairs, listening to Angel's lament. When it was all said and done, she'd sacrificed her life for everyone at that battle, and more that half of them she didn't know the names of. For the most part, the people she did know names of were just code names.

"You know," Iceman started, "don't take this the wrong way, but I've been wondering the same thing. I don't know if you remember any of it or not, but it was her that brought you down and allowed us to save you. And I know her father didn't tell her to do it."

"So why did she?" Angel continued. "Why did she go out of her way to save everyone but herself?"

"_It felt wrong not to."_

Wanda got up and continued up the stairs again, walking listlessly down the halls and peering in open doors. Most of them were empty, but she did find Rouge and Nightcrawler in one of them.

"Kurt, ya cain't keep blamin' yaself," Rogue was telling the blue demon. "It wasn't ya fault."

Nightcrawler made no indication that he heard her at all. He was hanging upside down from the light fixture over the bed. Rouge was sitting on the bed and staring up to her estranged half brother.

Rouge sighed and pulled her knees up to her chest. "If ya look at th' big pictcha, it was all uh our faults."

Nightcrawler finally looked at her.

"Wanda was takin' Sinister on bah huhself, so three uh us shoulda been plenty," she continued. "But he tossed us 'round like rag dolls. B'fore we knew whut happened, he was back b'hind that damn force field."

Nightcrawler resumed his staring contest with the wall.

"An' then, boom."

It was barely whispered. Rouge's face scrunched up and she pulled one hand over her mouth as her body began shaking from silent sobs. Nightcrawler heard her shift and looked down again. Without a word, he teleported from the light fixture down next to Rouge and wrapped his arms around her. She could no longer hold in her tears and cried openly.

"An' just why cain't we be at th' funeral?" Rouge asked between sobs. "Whut if we wanta pay our respecs to 'er?"

_Father was right. This is exactly what I _don't _want at my funeral. Loud and boisterous crying. _

Loud shouting from the foyer brought Wanda back out of the room and into the hall. As she made her way to the stairs, she saw Remy hauling John off by an arm to one of the side hallways. Curious, she followed. When she caught up, Remy had blocked John into a corner and was whispering forcefully to him.

"Vous need ta calm down," Remy was saying. "Less vous want de Wolverine afta ya hide."

"Just tell me I'm not crazy," John requested. "Tell me she ain't down there and that 'er and 'er brother are just messin' wit me 'ead."

Remy stared at him for a long moment. "Vous been gone for a couple weeks. Where ya been?"

"Went ta visit my grams back 'ome," John answered. "Got back this mornin."

Remy paused again, as if thinking things through. "Ain't no lie. Cherie's gone. Died las' night. Check da news."

He moved to leave but John grabbed his arm.

"But I saw 'er this mornin when I got back," John insisted, sounding desperate. "She was in me room, an' again in th' garage."

"Ain't no joke, mon ami," Remy told him, pulling loose his arm. "Look dere. Dat is cherie's."

Remy pointed down the hallway further, towards the back of the mansion. Wolverine was supervising as two gentlemen were wheeling in a pale pink casket and walking it to another one of the hidden elevators. John stared in disbelief, then turned back to look at Remy. That's when he noticed Wanda. She was staring back at him, somewhat surprised that he actually had come to the mansion to make sure she was really dead. John's gaze went to the floor and then back to Remy.

"I _am_ crazy."

That said, he walked back down the hallway towards the main door. Remy didn't follow him, but watched the men load the casket into the elevator. Once the doors closed, Remy walked down the hallway himself, moving slowly as if he were contemplating something. He stopped in front of a tall set of double doors but did not knock. He didn't need to.

"Please come in, Remy."

Remy opened one of the doors and walked into the Professor's study. Wanda quickly followed him in before he closed the doors again. The Professor was behind his desk filling out some papers. He looked up as Remy sat down on one of the couches that helped fill space in the huge room.

"You're perplexed."

It was an observation more than a question.

"John was here," Remy started. "Homme was really upset."

Xavier folded his hands and rested his chin on them. "That is not necessarily odd. He learned that while he was away, one of his teammates, a roommate actually, passed away."

"Was more dan dat," Remy insisted. "Homme said he saw cherie dis mornin."

"Well, that _is_ unusual," Xavier admitted. "Could he have dreamed it? John does have a wild imagination."

"Don' tink so," Remy shook his head. "John is a nut bag sometime, but dis ain't da same."

"Well," Xavier said. "Perhaps you should keep an eye on him. I don't know if what he's seeing is an illusion or otherwise, but if his behavior brings you concern, it may not be a bad idea to watch out for him. At least until he begins behaving normally."

Remy sat there contemplating for a bit, then nodded. He got up without a word and left the room, leaving Wanda alone with the Professor. He went back to his papers and Wanda walked around the study looking at different things.

"Does it bother you?"

Wanda froze. She looked around the room to make sure that there was no one else there and then turned back to Xavier. He was still looking at the papers he was filling out. She quirked her head to the side in confusion. Xavier finally looked up and straight at her.

"That John thinks he's crazy for being able to see you?"

Xavier was talking to her. _To her_. Like John had been before.

"_It bothers me more that you can see me. And talk to me."_

"Well, I considered it rude to just leave you in silence," Xavier told her. "Besides, you and I have some things to discuss."

"_I can only imagine."_

"I suppose you want to know why you're still here," Xavier guessed, collecting the papers and arranging them neatly at the end of the desk. "But, that is fairly difficult to answer."

Wanda waited for him to elaborate. In truth, she was kinda wondering why she was just lingering when she had been dead for a day. She also didn't believe she was a ghost. She mostly felt…displaced.

"When I realized what you were going to do to Sinister and his machine," Xavier began, "I panicked. I tried to enter your mind and command you to get out of there as quickly as possible. But, the force field Sinister had created along with your own mutant abilities made that difficult.

"By the time I had reached your mind, the power you had accumulated and had begun setting free was too untamed to be able to retract. Knowing I could no longer stop you, I pulled away from your mind. But it didn't go as smoothly as it normally would.

"Your powers were so strong that they were affecting everything. The sky was turning green, the clouds were purple, and the sun became black. It was quite frightening for the students that were still conscious, for their powers began reacting of their own accord. As did mine.

"When I pulled away from your mind, it came with me. You are, for loss of a better description, the psyche of yourself. Mind separated from body. Your body died, but your mind has not. Which presents an interesting problem."

"_What am I going to do now?"_

"Exactly," Xavier sadly agreed. "I'm sorry, my dear. It seems that I inadvertently did this to you."

* * *

A/N: Let me know what you think. Was her death a little corny? Well, too bad! Kidding. Anyway, sorry but no prediction on when the next chapter will be out. Cuz I have seriously no idea. I might be too lazy to predict...or I just have a severe case of procrastination. Ha! Please leave feedback! 


	3. The Deceased

A/N: Man, it's been awhile.Oh, well. I have been working on this chapter for forever it seems like. I hope it comes across the way I intended. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 3: The Deceased**

It was raining when Wanda's father came to retrieve her casket the next morning. Wanda had spent the night in the professor's study, contemplating her situation. She had come to the conclusion that putting herself back into her body was not an option since she was technically dead. But she had not figured out what to do with herself for the rest of eternity since she'd become, more or less, a ghost.

That thought was embedded even further into her mind as she followed her own casket out the back doors of the mansion. In the car with her father for the second time in as many days, he was silent. Heavy sighs were the only conversation he was willing to have with her until they stopped at the Brotherhood home to pick up Pietro.

Her father disappeared briefly into the house but returned alone. Wanda felt a deep sting in her chest, disturbed that her brother would not show for her funeral. By the time they reached the grove where she was to be buried, the rain had dissipated to a light mist. An ugly hole in the ground made the grove seem even gloomier than the weather had already done.

And empty.

She knew her father had forbidden anyone but Pietro from showing, but beyond a hole in the ground and a huge pile of dirt, she and her father were the only ones present. Her father sat in the car as it idled for several minutes, staring at nothing. Finally, he shut off and stepped out of the vehicle and with a quiet metallic clang, magnetic powers lifted and positioned her casket above the hole.

"First my wife," she heard him mumble as he lowered the casket down. "Then my daughter. And though he still walks this earth, I believe I have forever lost my son."

__

"He still loves you. He just doesn't see it right now."

Wanda's muted voice quivered as she spoke.

"They say that men are the most dangerous when they have nothing left to lose," her father continued. "I suppose I have become one of those men. But, for the first time in my life, I feel I've lost my will to fight."

Wanda watched as her father stood motionless but various instruments moved about in the motions of laying her to rest and filling the grave. She couldn't help but cry, feeling like she was watching the end of something important and not being able to stop it. A sniffle brought her attention back to her father and she noticed a thin stream of wetness rolling down his cheek.

"My daughter," he began, having finished her actual burial, "I am still amazed each day when I think of you. Of all the hardships and challenges you faced every day, and still became the strong, incredible woman that you were. A strong individual untainted by power or others. A sort of peace keeper. A hero in the end.

"In truth," he murmured, walking up to the edge of the grave, "you turned into the person that I, when I first became aware of my evolved self, had decided I would become. The years spent fighting against discrimination and blind hatred skewed that persona into what stands next to your grave. It should be me there, not you."

"You're damn right."

Pietro's voice startled them both. He stood behind the car in a black shirt and black slacks, hands in his pockets.

"Because of you, I have lost my sister not once, but TWICE!" he accused. "And this time there is no chance of getting her back. And for what? Because some twisted bastard promised you total mutant superiority if you gave him a couple million dollars and didn't ask questions."

"Pietro, I--"

"I don't want to hear a word you say ever again," Pietro interrupted. "You ignored us and cast us away as children and then used us as tools when you thought we'd become useful to your 'cause.' You are the worst father in history but for reasons I can't even fathom, she still gave a damn about you.

"And as ridiculous as she was, she's probably already forgiven you," he continued. "She probably doesn't even blame you. But I do. And I won't forgive you. So when you're done here laying my sister to rest, why don't you go find some nice back alley to bite it in 'cause you're already dead to me, and the world would be that much better a place without you."

Pietro turned and walked away after he finished, the only sound left in his wake the squish of his shoes in the mud. Her father sighed heavily and watched him go. Once he was out of sight, her father walked back to the car and pulled a red rose from the front seat and laid it on her grave.

"Goodbye, Wanda."

The last she saw of her father gave her chills. It was reminiscent of him leaving her at the mental institution. He drove away in the rain in a black car, never once looking back.

Wanda stared at her grave with the tears still falling. The rain clouds lasted through the night and into the next day when a rag-tag menagerie of X-Men shied up to her grave. Most of them prayed silently, as though no one was brave enough to say anything aloud for fear of being caught.

Kitty bawled the whole time, which didn't surprise Wanda at all. Rogue stood in the background with Nightcrawler, both content to stare at the ground. Remy wasn't present, nor were the Angel or Iceman. The red-head leaned close to Cyclops, who had led the make-shift memorial to her grave.

They left after an hour or so, leaving Wanda alone again. She tried wandering away from the grave sight and discovered that for whatever reason, she could not leave sight of her grave. Somewhat upset by that fact, she spent the remainder of her day seeing how far away she could get.

It turned out to be even less the next day. Not only was it discouraging, but she began to wonder how long she'd keep her wits. It bothered her constantly to not be able to leave her grave sight. After a third day of solitude, she got a visitor.

"Ay, Sheila, long time no see," John saluted, wandering up towards her grave.

__

"Very funny."

"Well, I was a little crazy for a while and 'ad ta figure some thins out," John shrugged. "But not to worry, everythins better now."

__

"Oh yeah? How so?"

"Well, I decided that yer a ghostie and since I can see ya, yer supposed to be 'aunting me," he explained. "I waited at the 'ouse for ya ta come back, but ya didn't. So I decided ta come see ya myself."

__

"Interesting theory. Definitely sounds like a story that came from a writer."

"Why, thank ya," John grinned.

__

"But not even close."

"Oh, so yer gonna explain it ta me?" he asked, sitting on the wet ground. "I'm all ears."

__

"Go away, John."

"But I just got 'ere," he whined. "And I can tell yer bored."

__

"And how do you plan to cure that boredom?"

From his muddy back pocket he pulled a notebook and waved it. "Ya like fiction?"

__

"You're going to read to me?"

"Well, I expect some feedback," John explained. "Kinda like a proof-listener."

Wanda smiled for the first time since…she couldn't remember when. She sat across her grave from him, giving him her full attention. He grinned immensely and opened the notebook, reading to her very animatedly. She laughed at some of the things he'd written, scowled at some, and sighed at others. Mostly, she was just surprised that he'd managed to act relatively sane for as long as he did.

"What d'ya think?" he asked when finished.

__

"You are crazy. But I liked it."

He smiled as if Wanda had told him he was allowed to light a gas station on fire.

"I knew it," he grinned. "I knew that cod back at the publishing 'ouse was full a' rot."

__

"He didn't like it?"

"The turd said somethin' 'bout bein' too risqué or somethin'," John dismissed with a wave. "What's risqué about a bunch a thugs and sorcery?"

__

"I don't know. He's just prejudice or something."

"Against what?"

__

"You, probably. For writing something better the he ever could."

"That's the closest thin ta a compliment I ever 'ad," John feigned shock. "Say it again, Miss Daisy."

__

"What? Miss Daisy?"

Wanda was giggling by then and forgot all her worries for the moment.

__

"Will you do me a favor, John?"

"'Course," he replied immediately.

__

"Come see me once in a while. You're right, I do get bored easily here."

"On one condition," John stated, holding up his index finger. "Ya promise ta smile fer me like ya did today."

__

"We'll see."

John stayed and chatted for awhile before the rain began again, and she had to tell him to leave so that he didn't catch pneumonia. The moment he left her sight, though, the solitude became overwhelming again. Her solitude was kept until a stranger came and marked her grave with an engraved onyx stone. She felt like time began to pass so fluidly that she had trouble remembering how many days passed before John appeared again.

"Sheila, ya look rottin," he diagnosed as he climbed the hill toward her. She would have gone down to meet him half way but was now restrained to be within ten feet of her grave.

__

"I'm a ghost. How am I supposed to look?"

John shrugged indifferently and sat down next to her grave again. "Sorry it's been so long. Yer brother's been in rotten spirits lately and took it out on me room."

__

"What did he do to it?"

"Ya remember th' time th' curs we live wit' tried ta soak me bed?" he asked. She nodded for him, recalling that not only had the bed been ruined, but the rest of the furniture had been trashed due to water damage. "Well, imagine that wit' a baseball bat."

Wanda sighed. Her brother always had problems expressing his emotions. Apparently he'd found new and creative ways to express himself.

"Ripped up some a me journals, too," John added, pulling two pieces of a formerly leather-bound book from his jacket.

__

"Sorry."

"Why ya sorry? You didn' do it," he shrugged, then took on a mischievous look. "Or did you?"

__

"No, it wasn't me. I've been stuck here since I was buried a few days ago."

John was giving her a critical look. "Sheila, it's been three weeks since ya died. I 'aven't been able ta visit ya in over two weeks."

Wanda stared at him in disbelief.

__

"Are you sure it's been that long?"

"'Course," he nodded. "Sheila, ya can' leave this place at all, can ya?"

__

"No. I can't."

Wanda thought she sounded even more muted than usual and looking down at her body, she thought she looked more transparent than usual. At some point, the thought had occurred to her that she might begin to fade away as the memory of her faded from those that she'd died to protect. She'd just assumed that she would never fade away completely as long as her brother and father were still alive, but Pietro had already renounced thinking about her at all and her father…He had not returned since he'd buried her and she wondered if he ever would again.

"Well, I came 'ere ta read ta ya, so I won' keep ya waitin'," John announced suddenly, flipping pages in the first half of the torn journal. "Are ya in th' mood fer some action?"

She nodded in spite of herself, trying to pay attention to him when all she could think about was the idea of just fading away. At some point the must have noticed she wasn't paying attention because he stopped reading and was giving her a scrutinous eye.

"Seriously, sheila, ya don' look like ya feel good today," he diagnosed, putting the book down.

__

"I'm dead, John. I'm not supposed to feel anything."

"Ya know what I mean," he grumbled, staring at the ground. "Ya look like ya 'ave given up or something."

__

"I may have. I don't know."

They sat there in silence for a few more moments before Wanda realized her hands were no longer visible. John looked alarmed and as though he were about to say something when she beat him to it.

__

"It's time for you to go, John."

"But--"

__

"And you probably shouldn't come back, either."

He looked like he wanted to argue with her. "Why not?"

__

"I don't think I'm going to be here much longer."

He still looked ready to argue, but picked up his journal and left at her request. She watched him walk down the hill and decided it was for the best. Time once again resumed its fluidity and if it hadn't been for changing weather, she wouldn't have known time was passing at all. The next visitor to her gave was none other than Xavier, wheeled up the hill by the man with the long side burns. Xavier waited for the man to make his way all the way down the hill before addressing her.

"I had hoped to find you in better condition than this," he appraised. "It's been a month since you passed, but it seems as though you almost completely diminished."

__

"I'm tired of being here."

"Does that mean you've given up on ever living again?"

Wanda regarded him as though he were crazy.

__

"My body is dead. You say it's been dead for a month. How exactly am I supposed to live again?"

Xavier sighed as if the whole conversation was trying for him. "Your body died, yes. But not in the way that you think. I've had a terrible time trying to think of how to explain this to you. And others, since I will have to convince them to let me exhume you from your grave."

Wanda stared at him. He looked tired, as though he hadn't got a decent night's sleep in the month that she'd been dead. There were bags under his eyes and he looked paler than usual.

"When your mind was pulled from your body," he began, "your body stopped living. In effect, your systems and organs paused as though waiting for your mind to return and tell it to start living again. But how does one explain that to people who are still in shock and refuse to see anything more than a dead body?"

__

"So my body isn't decaying or something. Great. But you still haven't told me how you're going to put me back in my body."

"That, my dear, depends on you," he told her. "It was your powers that started the chain reaction of having your mind removed from your body. I cannot put you back without the assistance of your powers."

__

"Then it's impossible."

"Have you even tried using your powers, Wanda? Do you know they won't work?"

__

"Not for the first time, I am wondering if you're crazy. But this time, I can't help but believe it."

"Wanda, this will never work if you give up on the possibility. Once the mind dies, the body cannot survive without it."

__

"Why did it take you a month to come tell me this? What have you been doing in the month that I have been stuck here with no one coming to see me but a crazy Australian?"

Xavier avoided the question and looked down the hill where the man with the sideburns began his trek up.

"I will come back in a week and see if you are ready to try."

__

"You're hiding something from me. What's going on that I don't know about?"

He didn't answer as he was wheeled down the hill to the car. The rain came back as the car pulled away and Wanda wondered if it was truly a possibility for her life to be restored. She was still wondering when John returned, looking grim.

"Hey sheila," he greeted, leaning against a tree.

__

"I thought I told you not to come back."

"I told ya before that I like 'anging out wit' ya, when ya ain't yellin' at me," he grinned, venturing a little closer. He seemed uncomfortable for no reason she could fathom. "Xavier came ta see me."

Wanda rolled her eyes and let out a big sigh.

__

"That man is full of lies. Don't believe a word he says."

"But I liked what he said."

__

"I'm dead, John. There's no coming back from that."

"But yer the Scarlet Witch," he argued. "If anyone can do it, ya can."

__

"John, why did Xavier wait a month after I died to tell me that I was able to live again?"

John hesitated. "I dunno."

__

"You lie. Now go away and never come back or tell me the truth."

"I ain't lyin'," he defended. "I don' know fer sure why 'e waited so long, but I know why 'e's doin' it now."

Wanda made a gesture for him to continue.

"Yer father's missin'," John explained. "No one's seen 'im fer a month. And, uh, I don' know how ta tell ya this, but yer brother's gone a little loco."

__

"My brother?"

"Yeah. The president is supposed ta sign some bill er somethin' next month that declares every mutant in the country needs ta register wit' the government," he told her. "Yer brother, well 'e pulled a Magneto and issued a 'statement' that the president would never get ta sign that bill, one way er another."

Wanda took a moment for the things John had told her to sink in.

__

"A man is his most dangerous when he's got nothing left to lose."

"Say what?"

__

"My brother has turned into the second generation of Magneto. And Xavier doesn't think he can stop him."

"Who cares, sheila," John interrupted. "So Xavier's a rotten cur that is like every other 'guiding figure' in the world and wants ta use people fer his own agenda. Ya father did the same thing and so will prolly every other cod ya meet. But I want ya back fer nothin' else but I miss ya. And so do those other jokes we home with. And even though he keeps sayin' otherwise, ya brother misses ya the most. So just try."

__

"Beautiful speech, John. But I don't think I want to."

"What? Why?"

__

"Step outside of yourself for a moment, John. Tell me if you would want to live my life. My mother died when I was eight and it sent my father off the deep end. He began training my brother and I to become these super soldiers for the world he was going to create where mutants were the majority and he had ultimate supremacy.

"But my powers emerged too soon and too strong to be controlled. So rather than deal with me, my father sent me to a mental institution for eight years. No one, not Xavier, not even my own brother, would come get me out. Some crazy woman who shape shifts got me out to 'use' me and my raw power to gain ultimate supremacy.

"The end result is the world knowing about mutants and a huge backlash against it. I no longer had any hope of having a normal life. And as for an abnormal life, who would want to live with a bunch of idiots who cause their own misfortune and the rest of the world tries to use you in order to gain ultimate supremacy? I don't, John. I've had time to think it over and I've decided that I'm better off dead.

"And as for Pietro, ever since he was little, he's never had the backbone to do what's needed in a tough situation. What's going to happen is he's going to bungle up his plan to do whatever with the president and either end up in jail for the rest of his life or dead like me. So go away, John, and tell Xavier to fight his own battles from now on."

John was staring at the ground looking very troubled. Without a word, he walked down the hill and out of sight. She knew he wouldn't be the last to harass her about it, and true enough, Xavier was the next to show.

"I cannot believe you are being so selfish," was how he greeted her. She decided to ignore him to see if he'd leave on his own. He did not.

"Many people would love to see you alive again and all you want to do is feel sorry for yourself because you've had a rough couple of years," he continued. "You have the chance to do something very important and you're passing it up because you don't _feel_ like it."

__

"Why did you wait so long to tell me?"

"That is irrelevant," Xavier dismissed. "What's important is your life. Which is fading more and more each day that you accept your death. Do you not care that others are suffering because you are gone?"

__

"Answer my question and I'll answer yours."

Xavier sighed heavily. "I did not tell you right away because I wanted to see what impact your death would have on the world. At first, everything went exceptionally. Eric stopped his efforts to reign mutant supremacy, mutants outed themselves and defended you and your actions, and the Brotherhood boys disbanded and went their separate ways. But it was short lived.

"Pietro has filled Eric's shoes as a mutant threat to the government and blew a part of the pentagon up to prove his statement that he would stop a Mutant Registration Act from being signed. The mutants that supported your actions, as well as those that are suspected mutants, are becoming the victims of hate crimes. And now there is a new generation of the Brotherhood going around and though they do not support your brother's actions, have taken it upon themselves to defend the mutants being attacked."

__

"And you think that bringing me back to life will fix all this?"

"It will not fix everything," Xavier admitted. "But it will take away a negative and add a positive. Your presence will be beneficial in more ways than one."

__

"I guess I can answer your question now. Do I care that others are suffering without me? Yes, I care that others are suffering. But I'm not going to do anything about it because here's the blatant truth: If I had died, truly died in that fight against Sinister, what would you have done then?"

"I don't know," he answered quietly.

__

"Well, you're about to find out. Because you'd do then what you're going to do now: Deal with it."

"Wanda--"

__

"Leave me in peace."

He tried a few more times to convince her, but this time she wouldn't even listen to his words. He finally gave up and left her alone when the rain came again. It seeped into the ground as she stared at her grave marker, reading the inscription there.

__

Wanda Elaine Maximoff

Beloved Daughter & Sister

Unforgettable to Anyone

Who Crossed Her Path

__

'What a load of crap. The only person who refuses to forget about me is an insane fire-starter.'

"Hey, sheila."

__

"Speak of the devil."

"I need ta know," John started, circling her grave with his feet squishing in the mud, not looking at her. "What will it take?"

__

"What will what take?"

"What will it take ta get ya ta do it?" he asked, still pacing around her grave. "What will it take ta get ya ta try ta restore ya life?"

__

"John, I don't--"

"I know ya don' wanna live!" he yelled at her, finally looking at her, furious. "An' I don' care! Just tell me what it'll take an' I'll make it happen. If it takes layin' down me own life, fine. I don' care. Just say it."

__

"Why?! Why is it so important that I live?"

"We're nothin' without ya," John admitted. "All a' us. Even those X-turds. None a' us can do anythin' right without ya."

__

"Why are you so convinced that me being alive will make everything better again?"

"Why are ya so convinced it won't?"

__

"Because I don't want it to!"

Silence filled the air as he finally stopped arguing with her to contemplate her words.

__

"The idea that the world keeps spinning the way its supposed to because of one person is a hard idea to swallow. And it's a million times harder when everyone keeps telling you that it's because of you. It's like every little thing I'd do would matter. Whether I decided to go out to a movie or stay in with they boys and make popcorn would have an affect on the world and I'd start to wonder if it was the right thing to do. I'd start to wonder about everything I did and it would drive me crazy. And that's what I don't want most of all."

"That's deep, sheila."

__

"Smart ass."

"I have a proposal," John began. "Ya cooperate wit' Xavier and put yerself back in yer body. Hold on, I ain't finished. Once yer in yer body again and all is well in the world, me and ya can high tail it to the Outback and hide out and watch the world get by without ya."

__

"How is that different?"

"Ya can't be dead or the world'll go ta hell?" John continued. "Fine. Yer still alive wit' me in the Outback, but no one can bother ya about earth-changin' decisions."

__

"It won't last."

"Ya won't know until ya try," John countered. "Come on, prove me wrong."

__

"I--"

Wanda started to sink into the ground.

"Whatcha doin' sheila?" John asked, watching dumbfounded as she sank.

__

"I can't stop myself. I don't know what's happening."

In vain, John tried reaching out to her, his hand sweeping through her arm unopposed. Wanda sank deeper, her eyes for the first time since 'waking' as a spirit became filled with panic.

__

"John-"

She was sinking within the ground. Passing through dirt and silt until she reached a bottom. Her coffin, she realized. Her body was sinking into itself. Wanda began to feel fuzzy at the edge of her mind before everything went black.

--

A/N: I intend for the next chapter to be the last one, but we'll see if that actually happens because I haven't even started writing it yet...Until next time!


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